


Flight

by out_there



Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Michael needs a few days, a few weeks, a few months to get lost, so be it.  If Michael wants to spend hours behind the wheel, squinting into the sunlight, following country backroads without saying a word, Alex can live with that.  If Michael wants to avoid people, avoid motels and camping grounds, wants to spend alternate nights shifting in the passenger seat or twisted awkwardly across the backseat, that's fine too.  Alex will defend his right to go a little crazy.  If any deserves a good mental breakdown, it's Michael Scofield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SDWolfpup for the prompt: Prison Break, Michael/Mahone, flight. Set after S4 and the TV movie.

It's their third week on the road, the two of them trapped in a dusty black Ford, with the comforting constancy of farmland passing by. They've avoided highways, avoided cities, avoided people and crowds and authority. Alex doesn't know where they're going, but he's certain Michael doesn't either.

Lincoln and Sara are out of the country. While Michael was a comatosed John Doe in a hospital ward, they set up lives south of the border, assuming Michael's death. Alex would begrudge them that fresh start, would hold a grudge on Michael's behalf (since Michael is almost incapable of holding his own), but he can't. Not while he's the one in this car.

Not when Michael woke up and gave a fake name to the nurses, and then called Alex.

Alex came because he had to. Because he owes his sanity, his freedom, his peace of mind to Michael Scofield and the very least he can give in return is some unquestioning support.

When Michael said, "I need to drive somewhere," Alex didn't ask questions. He arranged the hospital paperwork and took a leave of absence from his job, and got a spare key for his Ford Focus, then filled it with gas.

He still hasn't asked why Michael hasn't called Lincoln and Sara. He's asked what Michael remembers and got a narrow, sideways stare, an unflinching "All of it," as a reply.

("Don't you want to know what happened?" he'd asked and Michael shook his head.

"The plan worked. You would have told me at the hospital if it hadn't.")

Since then, they haven't discussed it. Alex doesn't want to. Bottom line is that he doesn't care. If Michael needs a few days, a few weeks, a few months to get lost, so be it. If Michael wants to spend hours behind the wheel, squinting into the sunlight, following country backroads without saying a word, Alex can live with that. If Michael wants to avoid people, avoid motels and camping grounds, wants to spend alternate nights shifting in the passenger seat or twisted awkwardly across the backseat, that's fine too. Alex will defend his right to go a little crazy. If any deserves a good mental breakdown, it's Michael Scofield.

When Michael pulls over at dusk, pocketing the keys and getting out of the car, Alex doesn't complain or demand answers. He just gets out and leans on the hood beside Michael. Michael's hands are behind him, out of sight. There are scars from the electrical burns, angry red skin from the tips of Michael's fingers to the heel of his palms but Michael always rests his hands palms-down; Alex only sees the damage when Michael's asleep. He wonders if it hurts.

They watch the sun sink behind the endless flat horizon of Idaho, until the last spark of orange clouds fades to indigo. Michael pulls the keys out of his pocket, but keeps leaning on the car. "You don't have to be here," he says, and it the first time he's spoken in three days.

Alex shrugs.

"I can drop you off somewhere. This isn't--" Michael says, but he drops his chin and closes his eyes.

Alex doubts Michael knows what this is or what it isn't. And even if Michael knew, he still wouldn't know how to say it. "You going to keep driving?" Alex asks instead. It's the only question he needs answered.

Michael nods.

"Then I'll stick around."

There isn't anything more to be said, so they get back into the car and drive through the darkness.


End file.
